


words are wind (here comes the storm lady)

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, AU where Stannis is a good dad, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a plot, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, eventually, there will be more chapters, this has unexpected consequences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:30:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>It was what she told herself, a prayer all of her own. Words are wind words are wind </em>words are wind. <em>Actions, intention, loyalty, those spoke louder than any gale.</em></p><p> <br/>Shireen grows up with a father's love and attention, Stannis learns to care. When the stags stand together, predators ought to know better than to walk unwary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words are wind (here comes the storm lady)

**Author's Note:**

> Shireen+Stannis GEN  
> Anonymous  
> April 16 2013, 21:37:49 UTC COLLAPSE  
> Track  
> I've seen a lot of fics where Stannis and Shireen aren't close at all so how about the exact opposite where they are as close and affectionate as they can be.
> 
> (Any pairings are fine with me)
> 
> http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/14196.html
> 
> This is an answer to this prompt. Sue me, I have feels.

 

 

For all that the highborn live very separate lives from the smallfolk, there are well known tales about the royal family. King Robert is well known for his valor in battle, prowess on the mattress and unquenchable thirst, while Renly of Storm's End had the dubious honor of being the most well dressed man in the realm. And of course, the Lord of Dragonstone is largely regarded as sourest man in the realm.

Rumors were only that, never the full tale. To those who knew him truly, he was the most devoted of fathers.

At times, this was not to Shireen's benefit. "Papa, you can't slay everyone that mocks me," she said reasonably. "You'd never stop until you reached the Wall. There are always those that see only the scales. I have learned to accept it."

The tall stained windows in the Master of Ships' solar cast him in strange colors that reminded her of Patchface's motley inks. It made her miss her friend, even if they weren't close, and he was strange. Father did not like Patches' songs, they made him oddly angry. Maybe he felt cheated that he was alive and his parents weren't.

Papa was angry now too, looking ready to challenge her statement and declare war on the world at large, for the scars it gave her and the unkindness bestowed on both of them.

"Be as it may, it is intolerable offense, and from one of your own House. The Kings own heir!" His expression made clear that crown prince or not, Joff was not exempt from feeling his displeasure. Placing her book on the neat table, Shireen jumped from her high chair and leaned against him, effectively stopping his pacing. She was the only person allowed to embrace Papa, and very proud of it.

She felt his sigh as his chest rose and fell, rose and fell. It was her turn to sigh when Papa began unplaiting her hair from the tight braids Mother had instructed the maids on. It was wicked, but Shireen was glad Mother had stayed in Dragonstone, resting after losing another babe in the womb. Shireen had gotten used to not having sibling, it was all she had ever known, but she had Devan now to play with, and Mathos and Maric sometimes, and Papa and Maester Cressen and Patchface and Ser Davos besides, so she wasn't lonely.

And the best part was, when she wanted the quiet, to stroll the seaside or hunt for the prettiest dragonglass bits or read on her own for a time, just her and the words and the salt air buffeting the walls, safe and familiar, Papa understood, and he made sure she had her quiet time. 

It very good to be understood. 

"It does not matter, Papa," she said. "Joff is mean to everyone, even Myrcella and Tomm. He's wretched, so everything he has to say is wretched too. Words are wind".

It was what she told herself, a prayer all of her own. Words are wind words are wind _words are wind_. Actions, intention, loyalty, those spoke louder than any gale. Still, the titters and pitying eyes on her face. It hurt, but maybe one day it wouldn't, and until then she would be strong and brave like Papa. Besides, Papa said there was nothing truly wrong with her, that her face did not measure her worth, so she told herself it did not matter if Joff and Aunt Cersei and everyone in King's Landing kept laughing at her. She was stone and stag, of the blood of the Storm Gods, and she controlled the wind.

They parted, and Shireen was glad to see he was smiling, that tiny eye-crinkling smile of his. Uncle Robert liked to complain Papa was always glum, but though he didn't laugh often he did smile, in his way, when there was reason to.

"Words are wind." He agreed, looking proud. Shireen's smile was broken by a yawn. With one last squeeze of her shoulder, he sent her to bed. This trip Shireen was alone. Dalla had stayed with Mother, but since the maids of the Red Keep weren't trustworthy she found herself changing into her nightgown and brushing her hair on her own. She was waiting inside the warmed linens when Papa knocked.

"You are becoming too old for nighttime tales," he complained. Nevertheless he sat down beside her on the bed. "Which will it be then?"

She didn't have to think about it. "Could you tell me about the doe and the stag?"

Papa leaned against the wall. He didn't seem surprised, it was her favorite story and the one she liked best after days like this. "Very well, then.

Once upon a time there was a little doe. She was bright and sweet babe, with her mother's ears and her sire's sharp eyes. However, her parents, a fox of the Reach and a stag from the Stormlands, did not cherish her as dearly as they should, for they both desired a male child to inherit his sire's antlers.

And so it was for the first moons of the doe's life, until one day a sun-dweller from the south came to the island the doe's family lived in. He sold bright fruits and rich cloths, but the stag chose a thrinket fashioned after the doe. It was a simple thing, but it carried within a great danger. Soon the doe was sick and ailing, with little expectations pf recovery.

All the animals told the stag the doe would not live, from the sullen turtles and wise grey-clad mouses to the fox mother herself told him there was no hope for the doe, that he should send her away. But the stag had grown fond of the doe, and in those days she cried in pain he had found himself not wishing to be parted from her and respecting the struggle for life. So he called the wisest and most knowledgeable amongst the animals to heal her, and tended to her when all others had fled in fear, and so long as he did so she lived.

Until the day came all the animals agreed there was no danger, and the doe would live, scarred and small but stronger than any had believed. And for the first time in many moons and more that stag was happy, for though he had nearly lost his child he had gained a new love for his daughter, and vowed not to forget the difference between a sire and a father."

She struggled to open her eyes. Her thoughts were sticky with sleep, and when Papa moved her head from his shoulder to the pillow she barely stirred.

"G'night Papa."

The press of lips against her hair, thick furs pulled over her blankets. "Sleep well, my daughter."

 

\-----

 

The morning dawned cloudless and bright in a way that hurt her eyes, used to the constant grays of Dragonstone. The gilded curtains parted sharply under the maid's ministrations, and between their concentrated efforts she looked almost pretty when Papa came to take her to break their fast with their family.

Shireen had difficulties in thinking of the royal family as family in truth instead of just name. Family was Papa's smiles, Mother when she was kind, Maester Cressen's lessons and Ser Davos' goodnatured jests. The King's loud bellows and the Queen's cold cold eyes had nothing to do with it, and such pretense offended her more than their unkindness.

Papa felt the same, she was sure. He spoke curtly when he spoke at all, and spent most of the meal staring at Joffrey. She did not know what he had told the king the night before, but no one spared her looks or words, and for that she was grateful.

It could not last, of course. Uncle Robert hated stalemates, and Uncle Robert was the king. " Now brother," he spoke, already on his second bottle of Arbor Red. Shireen had not seen much of wine until coming to King's Landing, and she understood Papa's dislike for the drink much better now.

"Your spawn owes mine an apology."

Shireen jarred the butter bowl. Papa's back straightened, if it was possible. It creaked, like a ship at port.  "What do you mean, Robert?"

The King's brow furrowed. Ruddy as he was, it was funnier than it should be. "What do I mean? Don't be daft, Stannis, the girl threw him in a fountain! Not that the boy doesn't need to be doused in cold water from time to time, but it's the principle of the thing. The crown prince cant be seen bring pushed around my a ruined girl. She's lucky she's getting off so lightly. I though you would understand that duty most of all."

Words are wind words are wind words are wind. Father's grip on his spoon was strong; she could hear the metal creaking beside her. He spoke quietly, the way the waves went quiet  the night before a great storm. "I understand, Your Grace. I understand that you are a weak ruler and a weaker man, incapable of rearing your own child, much less a kingdom. I understand that you have heard the cruelty sent towards your niece, and mocked her laughingly along with your courtiers, displaying the same scorn you offer an unfavored brother to a blameless child. I understand you well, brother."

Then he leaned towards the King. From the corner of her eye she saw the Kingsguard drawing their swords, but Papa made a move towards his own weapons. He spoke, quiet and clear and dangerous and Shireen thought ' _here comes the storm. no one is touching us now_ '.

"But understand this too, Your Grace. Too long you have spent amongst the lions and forgotten our House words. Ours is the Fury. Insult Shireen again, and you will find yourself recalling them well."

In the quiet of the dining room, wood scraping against red stone ringed unpleasantly. Shireen hastened to imitate her father, griping his hand tightly when it was offered. Before the table descended unto chaos, he only added, "I shall be reachable by raven in Dragonstone. I do understand duty better than any of you."

They left the royal dining room together, heads held high. This time, at least, it wasn't her scales that scattered the passerby. Words are wind, but the King - not uncle, not family - was right in one regard: she _was_ lucky.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://searchingforserendipity25.tumblr.com).


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